A Task Left Undone
by wishingstar21
Summary: Fred's room has been left untouched since the death of its owner. When George finally has to clean his brother's room, he enlists Harry, Hermione, and Ron to help. While tidying, Hermione comes across a secret that has remained buried for a long time now.
1. Part I

**Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize from the Harry Potter books.**

PART ONE

Hermione sat on the Weasley's couch downstairs, looking into the fire, a book on Horcruxes sitting open on her lap.

Sometimes, she wondered who made the decision for this war to be fought by children. Some could say that she had been a soldier since she was eleven, when she helped Harry face a form of Lord Voldemort. She was seventeen now, of age in the wizarding world. Would it ever be over?

She leaned back on the couch, appreciating the peace and quiet that one didn't normally get at the Burrow. That was probably due to the late hour; Hermione had snuck back downstairs when Molly and Arthur had gone to bed, to try and do some research. She found she had trouble sleeping lately.

Hermione looked around her temporary sanctuary and sighed. Tomorrow, Fleur's family was going to arrive, and even this late, the house wouldn't be quiet.

A noise behind her made her sit up, whipping around to see what it was. She put a hand to her wand, then relaxed when a twin came into the light.

"What are you doing up?" Hermione asked. It was Fred. She would have known before, but she did admit, George having a bandage on his ear did make it easier to tell the two apart.

"A better question is, what are _you_ doing up?" he countered. "I would think you would be snoring in your bed, like the other two. Mum's got you working so hard on the wedding, after all."

Hermione groaned. Molly was doing her absolute best to keep her and Harry and Ron apart, as if by preventing them from talking she could keep them home, safe. Fred sat down on the couch next to her. He looked at her sideways.

"I know what you three are planning."

Hermione stilled. "Do you?" she asked. "Do you really know?"

"Well…." He drawled. "Ron's clothes are going missing, Harry's clothes are going missing, you asked Dad for the tent we used at the Quidditch Cup…it doesn't take a genius to find out that you all are planning something." He nudged her. "But of course, I am a genius."

She giggled. "I know."

"What gave it away?" he gasped. "Was it the joke shop of inventions my brother and I set up? Or maybe it was our famous exit from Hogwarts…"

The two laughed. Hermione turned her head to tell him something, then froze. As they had talked, they had slowly moved together, until when she turned her head, their faces were close together. Close enough that she would barely have to move to touch her lips to his.

She did.

Later, she would blame it on the stress, on the impending Horcrux hunt, on the wedding that would be happening in less than a month.

But in the moment, when he kissed her back, all she could think was: This is Fred. This is Ron's brother Fred. Fred is kissing me, and I think…I think I like it…

It should've felt wrong. But it didn't. And when they barely talked the next day, the next week, it almost broke her heart.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She saw him at the wedding, dressed spic and span in new dress robes. He came up to her as she parted from Ron, and held out a drink.

"You look beautiful," he said, blue eyes boring into her brown ones.

"Thank you." She broke his gaze looking away.

"Hermione…" he started. She looked up, but at that moment, a Patronus whipped through them.

 _The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming._

Hermione only had time for one panicked look at him before they were separated by the crowd.

A minute later, she had apparated herself, Harry, and Ron into muggle London, apparated into a new set of problems.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **a/n: This is a rewrite of a one-shot I had published. It will now be republished in three parts, with some edits. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first version, and inspired me to rewrite it. Read and Review :)**


	2. Part II

**Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize from the Harry Potter books.**

PART TWO

Fred's room was messy, covered in jerseys and robes and products and sheets of paper with ideas for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It was red and gold all over, pure Gryffindor, just like Fred.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry stood in the doorway of the room, staring at what was left of a life. They could hear Angelina soothing George in the next room.

It had been more than a year since Voldemort was killed. In that time, so much had happened as the wizarding world rebuilt what they had lost.

Some things could never be rebuilt or replaced. Monuments were built instead, honouring those who had died in the fight against the Dark Lord. Fred's name was on every single one of those monuments, right up there with Sirius, Tonks, Lupin, Snape, and Dumbledore. And this room was his shrine, nothing moved since he had last been in there.

George was recovering. His solution was to ignore Fred's room, pretend it wasn't there. But it was, and one day when George realised he was brewing a potion wrong, he remembered where the correct instructions were.

Fred's room.

He couldn't go in himself. Neither could any of the Weasleys. Hermione volunteered, and Harry offered to help. Ron tagged along with his girlfriend and best friend, all of them clearing time from their busy schedules as Assistant Secretary to the Minister of Magic, Head Auror, and Quidditch Keeper. They had all continued on with their lives. But this was a task still undone.

"Well," Hermione said after a lengthy pause. "I suppose…I suppose we should get started."

Hermione and Harry entered the room grimly, and began tidying. Tidying first, clearing second, they had decided the day before. The job was begun in a somber mood, but as they got deeper in, there were more and more reasons to laugh. Their laughter brought Ron in to help, and soon drew Angelina and George. Together, they tidied Fred's stuff and laughed at the genius troublemaker he had been.

They made a point of not reading any personal journals or letters. Those they put aside into a box for George to read later. Hermione figured that there wasn't much in those that George didn't already know, and it could be his decision who to allow to read them.

Maybe they could eventually become a book, Hermione said. A book about one of the smartest jokesters to walk Hogwarts' halls.

About halfway through, Ron paused. He had been organizing Fred's desk, sorting the papers and notebooks into piles.

"Hermione," he said shakily. Hermione, Harry, George, and Angelina turned to look at him. He was holding an envelope in his hand.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, face pale.

"Hermione, this is addressed to you…" His whisper echoed in the room, no one moving.

Hermione got up and walked to Ron, pulling the letter out of his grasp with a shaking hand.

On the front of the envelope, in a bold hand, was her name: Hermione Granger.

She sank to the floor, sitting on her knees as she opened it.

 _Hermione-_

 _At this point I don't know if we'll ever see each other again. You're on the run, who knows where, and I'm about to leave the shop with George so we can broadcast Potterwatch in peace. The lovely visitors we've been having just aren't worth the hassle. Maybe we'll run into each other out there somewhere, and have a chat free of the 'scary dark lord' name version of He-who-must-not-be-named._

 _We left each other with a lot left unsaid. I'm sorry for that. I did try to find you at the wedding afterwards, Hermione. Promise. But, well, there was an interruption, and you left pretty quickly after that. So I might never get to say this to your face. Who knows who will live and who will die._

 _I love you, Hermione Granger. You and your wild hair and know-it-all ways. Even if you never read this, I'm relieved knowing that I have it documented somewhere that what we did together wasn't pure lust. I don't regret it. Do you? Don't answer that, I don't want to know._

 _So, I enter into the world of the war. I'm sorry this letter doesn't have more of the jokes you love. Not really in the mood, don't know when I will be again. See you in the future._

 _Love,_

 _Mr. Fred Weasley_

Hermione gulped back tears as she read the letter, and remembered.

 _"Hermione."_

 _She turned, wand already out, ready to attack whoever had just spoke her name._

 _"Relax, it's just me." She followed his instructions and relaxed as Fred stepped out of the shadows. "Ready to go fight evil?" he asked, cracking a smile._

 _She smiled back, a sad smile. "Not like I have anything else to do."_

 _They stood there, awkwardly, for a few minutes. Finally, she smiled, nodded, and turned to go._

 _"Hermione, wait." He caught her arm, holding her in place. She looked at his hand, and he slowly let go. He tipped her chin up so she was looking into those blue, blue eyes. "We'll talk afterwards, won't we?"_

 _She nodded. "We'll talk," she repeated. He smiled, and turned to bound down the hallway._

 _"Fred!" she called after him. He paused for a minute. She dithered, not remembering what she had planned to say. "Fred, just…be careful…"_

 _"You too," he said softly, then turned to go._

 _That was the last time she saw him living._

It had been one night, the night before the wedding. A night when she had been so unsure of herself, and her abilities, and he had been there. He had been there, reassured her, and, well….the phrase 'one thing led to another' didn't seem to capture them.

"Hermione?" Ron said hesitantly from beside her. "Are you okay?"

She reached up and hugged him, shaking with silent tears. One day she would have to tell him, her sweet, caring Ron. For now, she'd leave it.

Looking at George over Ron's shoulder, she weakly waved the letter she still held in her hand.

"Can I keep it?"

His face was unreadable.

"I think he meant for you to have it."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **a/n: This is a rewrite of a one-shot I had published. It will now be republished in three parts, with some edits. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first version, and inspired me to rewrite it. Read and Review :)**


	3. Part III

**Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize from the Harry Potter books.**

PART THREE

Hermione was quiet the rest of the day. The letter had taken her back to a time she'd rather not relive, a time when everyone was fighting for their lives.

When everyone was fighting, and some were losing lives.

Losing brothers. Losing Fred.

It sounded so…incomplete. _Losing_ someone. Like they're lost, and if you look hard enough, they'll turn up somewhere, like huge game of hide and go seek.

After Fred's room was all packed up, the five of them stood in the doorway.

"What do you plan to do with it now?" Ron asked George, who was clutching the recipe he had been looking for in one hand.

"Nursery," Angelina responded for her husband. George nodded in agreement. Together, the group turned and moved to the main room of the apartment.

"Well," Ron said, clapping his hands together. "Want to go grab some dinner at the Leaky Cauldron?"

They all nodded in agreement, and Harry went to go floo Ginny, and see if she wanted to join them.

Ron wrapped an arm around his girlfriend as they walked out the door, heading the group. Hermione leaned into his embrace, hugging him with one of her arms, but her other hand was in her pocket, stroking Fred's letter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was a few days later when Ron entered their flat to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, Fred's letter in her hands.

She had been reading it every night before bed. _Tomorrow_ , she had told herself every night. _Tomorrow I'll tell Ron._

Today, she had decided was that tomorrow. She had left work early, so she would be home when Ron got off work.

That afternoon, Hermione made herself a cup of tea and settled down to wait.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, confused. His girlfriend usually got home about an hour later than he did.

"Ron," she said, turning.

"Hello, darling," he said, leaning in for a kiss. It landed on her cheek when she abruptly turned her head. He pulled back, disgruntled. "Hermione? Is something the matter?"

She handed him the letter, hunching her shoulders and bracing herself. Ron's eyebrows squished closer together, his brow wrinkling, as he read.

"I…don't understand," he said haltingly, sitting down in a chair, shoes still on.

"We weren't together," Hermione said in a rush. "You and I, I mean. It was before Bill and Fleur's wedding, before the battle of Hogwarts…we didn't get together until after. It…it was just once, and then he died, so…so we never knew what might have happened. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"You…slept…with Fred," Ron said slowly. "You slept with my dead brother."

Hermione nodded wordlessly. She cringed, waiting for an emotional outburst. After a moment, when it still didn't come, she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Ron?"

He was staring blankly at the wall behind her. After a moment, he shook himself, coming out of his daze.

"I…you know what, I'm going for a walk." He got up and grabbed his jacket, making his way back toward the door. "Groceries are in the fridge," he said flatly as he left.

Hermione picked up the letter he had left, and read it once more. Then, going to her room, she got out a piece of paper and began constructing her own letter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

One too many drinks and an awkward flirtation later, Ron came home ready to kiss and make up with his girlfriend.

"'Mione!" he slurred, throwing his wand on the table and going toward their bedroom. "'Mione?"

She wasn't there. He went back to the kitchen, and noticed something on the table, under his wand.

Ron, it said on the front. Apprehension building inside of him, he opened the envelope to read what was inside.

 _Dear Ron,_

 _By the time you read this letter, I will be on my way to Australia, the muggle way. An international PortKey takes too long to set up._

 _I hope you don't see my decision to go as running away from the problem. I love you very much, Ron. We've been through so much together, and you've always been there for me. But I loved him too, even if it wasn't noticeable to me until…after._

 _I think…I think the war damaged all of us, Harry, you, and I in particular, and all of the students who were at Hogwarts during the war. We had our childhood taken away. I'm already regretting leaving you without saying goodbye, but I think it's for the best. I want to make a new life for myself, one where I can be with my family, and sort myself out a bit. I hope that one day you and Harry will be able to forgive me, and we can see each other again, as forever friends._

 _Love from,_

 _Hermione_

Ron stared at the letter unseeingly, before heading back toward the door. He couldn't be here, not now, not after…this. He wiped his eyes. Maybe he'd go see Harry. Maybe…maybe he'd go back to the pub he'd been at. That was closer. That would be easier.

The door slammed behind him, leaving the second life-changing letter of the week on the table behind him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed this story. I believe it's complete for real this time. Honestly, I'm not sure if this is one of my better stories or my inferior stories. I don't think I like this version of Hermione all that much; but this version was what went along with the rest of the fic, I think. I think that Hermione is a little lost, and her decision-making skills are terrible, and she's more than a little bit selfish. I think that she is running away from the problem, at least a little bit. Thank you for everyone who read this little expansion; please, read and review :)**


	4. Part IV

**Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize from the Harry Potter books.**

PART FOUR

Break-ups were bad, Ron thought, his brain muddled by all the drinks he had since walking into the Leaky Cauldron. Ever since Susan Bones had taken over the establishment, it had become the place to see and be seen, instead of just the way to get into Diagon Alley.

He wasn't here to see. He wasn't here to be seen, although he probably was being seen just by being here. He waved for another drink.

Hermione would've taken him home by now, if she were here. She would have taken him home three drinks ago.

Ron had never thought that three weeks could be so long.

He didn't think a night had gone by where he hadn't been thoroughly pissed since she left. It made for brutal mornings, working in the Auror Department, but it was worth it…he thought…for that oblivion that being buried in a bottle brought.

As he took his refilled glass from the barmaid, he thought about Harry morosely. Harry was the epitome of 'staying out of it'. He was in contact with Hermione, who had arrived safely in Australia. He came out drinking with Ron on Fridays. But Harry had Ginny the rest of the week…his Ginny.

He had asked Ron to come out ring shopping with him. Ron had gone along, but he was silent. He thought about how if Hermione was still with him, they would have both been shopping for rings.

As he sipped from the new glass, he contemplated the idea that he was becoming an alcoholic. He shrugged it off, and set his glass down on the bar.

"Well, Weasel, I've been watching you here for over two weeks now, I've decided it's time to talk."

Ron looked up blearily to see Pansy Parkinson, equally drunk, plop down onto the stool next to him most ungracefully.

"Yer a bitch, Park…park…Park'son," Ron slurred, hiccupping.

"Don't I know it," she said. "But I'm a bitch who's been drinking every day you've been here. I'm a bitch who's willing to have a drinking partner. You in?"

"Youuuu…" Ron said, pointing a finger at her. "You jest wan' me to pay."

"Side benefit," she grinned, and Ron was struck by the perfection of her teeth. "You in?"

"I'm in."

He gestured for the barmaid to fill up her glass. "Put it on my tab."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Pansy was getting over someone too. Ron learned that the next day, in the flat that Hermione had stripped of everything that belonged to her.

Ron had woken up with a hell of a hangover, and had almost rolled over onto a sleeping Pansy Parkinson. He was shocked, to say the least. Nevertheless, he was a perfect gentleman, giving her a hang-over potion and stumbling through an awkward question on whether or not she had done a Contraceptive charm.

He made coffee, and they sat in his kitchen, drinking out of huge mugs that Ginny had given him, with Quidditch games flying over the sides.

"So," Pansy said in a scratchy voice. She blushed and cleared her throat, then tried again. "Now what?"

Ron shrugged. "Depends on what you want. One-night stand, another relationship, or…."

Pansy made a face shaking her head. "I don't know. The sex was nice."

Ron blushed. "Yeah…I…" he stuttered.

Pansy laughed. "Friends with benefits?"

Ron smiled. "If you want."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At first, it was just sex. Sometimes she would call him, sometimes he would call her. They both stopped going out to drink as much. But always, they met Tuesday nights for a glass of butterbeer.

They started doing more and more together, going on walks, going shopping, and Ron would cook her dinner sometimes. Ron did dinner, Pansy did breakfast.

Ron sometimes had dinners that he had to go to, as part of the tag-team that had vanquished You-know-who. He started taking Pansy, when a plus-one was needed.

Their arrangement confused everyone they knew. Draco, newly engaged to Astoria Greengrass, was completely bemused when Pansy brought Ron to his engagement party.

He was civil. Pansy had been a friend before they had dated, and they were tentatively moving back into that.

It wasn't until they were photographed together, looking very much like a couple, at a fancy restaurant that Harry decided to say something.

He walked into Ron's flat the morning the photograph was printed, and he wasn't surprised to see Pansy cooking eggs and bacon.

"Morning, Potter," she said. "Coffee?"

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, throwing the paper on the table and sitting down.

"Shower," Pansy answered, getting Harry a plate and cup. "Why…oh." She slowly sat down and picked up the paper.

Ron entered shortly after that.

"Hey, Harry," he said cheerfully. It was a far cry from the tone Ron had used the first time Harry came over in the morning and saw Pansy making breakfast. "What's up?"

"We made the front page, darling," Pansy cooed. Her expression and tone hardened. "I told you we should have taken his camera."

Ron grimaced. "Great," he groused.

Harry sighed. "Well, your girlfriend looks good, at least."

The couple at the table with him froze. "What?" Ron finally asked.

"Your girlfriend," Harry said, gesturing to Pansy. "Isn't she?"

"We're…" Ron paused, scrunching his face up as he tried to find words to describe what Pansy was to him. "Okay, dating, I guess." He looked at Pansy, who shrugged.

"Give it a label, make it easier for the masses to understand." Ron grabbed Pansy's hand.

"You're adorable," he said.

"Really?" she replied, moving to sit in his lap, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I was sexy."

"You can be both," Ron told her, rubbing noses. "So long as you're mine."

As the two descended into a full out snogging session, Harry smiled and shook his head, leaving them to it.

A few minutes later, a peculiar smell began to make itself known. "Oh no!" Pansy said, breaking away from Ron. "The bacon!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

… _Ron's all right. I think he's dating Pansy Parkinson. He's moving on, moving past. I don't think you should come back quite yet, though. He might not be ready. Wait a while._

 _I hope you were able to reconnect with your parents, even though they can't remember you. Write back soon, I love hearing your stories of your magical primary._

 _Love, Harry._

 _P. S. Ginny sends her love._

Hermione carefully folded up the letter, and leaned over the railing that separated land from the sea. Her home was a few miles away, and she liked to walk here to be by the sea while she read Harry's letters.

It was winter, getting colder. She had started lighting fires so her small class wouldn't get cold…her house was in one of the wizarding sections of Sydney, and apparently, wizards didn't believe in heaters or ACs.

As she watched the waves breaking, she heard someone walk up behind her.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice asked. She whipped around, almost expecting Ron to be behind her.

She couldn't decide whether she was disappointed or not when instead she saw Charlie Weasley, in leather boots and a thick jacket, long red hair and burn scars.

"Hello, Charlie," she said, smiling. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Charlie said. "I heard you moved to Australia…thought I'd stop by while I'm here."

She cocked her head to the side. "Are you here for the Hebridean Black we kept hearing about in the news?"

"Yup," he answered. "Far away from home, that one."

She nodded and smiled vaguely.

"So," he rubbed his hands together. "Would you like to get a bite to eat?"

"Sure."

He held out his arm, mocking old traditions. Laughing quietly, she took it, and they set off to a pub that Charlie swore made amazing fish and chips.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

They weren't dating, not exactly. But he found reasons to be in Australia, and she found herself looking forward to his visits, where he would whisk her off to the newest restaurant in Sydney.

Finally, they crossed the line.

"Hermione." Hermione turned to Charlie, who stood on her porch stoop, looking at her seriously. They had just come back from a restaurant that, although Charlie swore up and down it had amazing food, was really quite greasy and awful.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I know… that you were with Ron for over a year," he started, taking a deep breath. "But…I've been visiting for a year now…and…well, I was wondering, would you like to be officially a couple?"

Hermione stiffened, looking away. "I've physically been with both Fred and Ron."

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Hermione stared off into the street, tense, waiting for him to make his excuses and leave. Instead, he drew closer.

"Hermione," he said softly, pulling her to him and tipping her chin up. "I'm not my brothers," he said seriously.

Her breath caught as she stared into his deep brown eyes, and she had to agree.

He was so much more.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **One Year Later… Dinner at the Burrow…**

"You will have a wedding, won't you?" Mrs. Weasley said anxiously as Pansy rolled up her sleeves and grabbed a knife to start dicing the vegetables, a diamond flashing on her finger. "I'll never forgive Charlie for not having a real wedding, just a priest out in the middle of nowhere in Romania…why Hermione agreed to that I'll never know. At least we got to throw one for Ginny, and of course Angelina's family planned hers."

"It is traditional for the bride's family to throw the wedding," Pansy smiled at her soon to be mother-in-law. "But I'm sure my mother would be grateful for any help you could provide."

"Well," Mrs. Weasley sniffed. She had gotten over her disappointment that Hermione and Ron separated, and that Ron had chosen Pansy Parkinson of all people, and decided that she quite liked the young woman.

Ron grinned as he snuck behind his fiancée in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. "You're beautiful," he said.

"Except for the nose," Pansy replied, twisting around to put her arms around his neck. Ron kissed said nose.

"Beautiful," he repeated.

"Ron Weasley!" Molly said in faux outrage. "Out of the kitchen!"

"Yes, Mum." Ron left the kitchen, winking at Pansy. He was forever grateful that Pansy liked to cook. It helped his Mum warm up to her. She loved having someone to help and teach in the kitchen.

"What're you doing here?"

Molly froze as she heard Ron's voice in the other room, sounding less than pleased. A cacophony of sound followed, as Harry and Ron and Ginny and Bill and Fleur and Teddy and Victoire and Arthur and Percy and George and Angelina and Andromeda and two others spoke all at once.

"Pansy, dear," she said quietly. "Why don't you go with Ron."

Pansy nodded, and wiped her hands off, heading into the other room.

She slipped to Ron's side, and examined the couple in front of her. Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Weasley were standing in front of her and Ron. Harry and Ginny flanked Ron and Pansy, with Andromeda and Teddy sitting on an armchair, and George and Angelina and Bill and Fleur and Victoire on the couch.

"Granger," Pansy said sharply, wrapping an arm around a shaking Ron.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated. "Mum!" he shouted, raising his voice. "Did you know?"

"No, she didn't," Charlie said, wrapping his own arm around Hermione. "But family is always invited to dinner."

Ron tensed, choking on a few words before leaving the room. Pansy followed him, giving Hermione a nasty look first.

The others were left in the room in an awkward silence.

"I thought – it's been a year – he's engaged – I thought it'd be all right now," Hermione whispered.

"Too soon," Harry said, shaking his head. "Too soon."

"I tried…with the letter…" Hermione began. Ginny shook her head.

"That just made it worse," she said. "That you left after telling him something like that."

"I miss you all," Hermione said, looking down. "But maybe – maybe we should go."

"No," Charlie said, a mulish set to his jaw. "Not unless you want to."

And they stayed for dinner.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was predictably awkward, with Ron and Hermione sitting in silence while their partners contributed to the conversation. Finally, Pansy stood.

"Okay, I'm done." She glared down at Hermione and Charlie. "You've slept with three Weasleys, and left Ron after dropping the bomb, which was probably your biggest, most unforgivable mistake. Not that I'm complaining." She sent a mushy look toward Ron, who returned it, before her face hardened again. "That was a bad move, and while I understand you're a part of this family, I think you should give us some warning before you show up."

"Listen, you snake…" Charlie began. "It's been a bloody year, and it's not like we've kept anything a secret from any of you…"

"Don't call her a snake," Ron snarled.

"Stop." Pansy held up her hand, then continued. "Listen. We're all family here." She smiled at Mrs. Weasley, who smiled back warmly. "We're going to have children who will be cousins. There's Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter…all of these holidays that are meant to be spent with FAMILY. And I'm sure Molly won't like having some of her grandbabies unofficially banned from her house." Pansy took Ron's hand. "So let's all make nice." She sat back down in her chair and leaned toward Ron, who was looking at her uncertainly. "I forgave you," she said softly. "And you forgave me. So please, forgive her?"

Ron nodded. "I forgive you, Hermione," he said, not even glancing at her, staring into his fiancé's eyes. Pansy smiled and kissed him on the lips.

Hermione looked down, and Charlie squeezed her hand, putting an arm around her. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you, Ron."

The table was quiet for a minute, the only sound silverware clinking against plates.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said brusquely. "Now that that nasty business is out of the way, is anyone ready for desert?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **THE END**


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